


Siren's Call

by MrsJohnSmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, F/M, POV Second Person, Panic Attack, Smut, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnSmith/pseuds/MrsJohnSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your whole world changes when two handsome brothers hunt you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“A what?” Dean pressed the phone harder to his ear and turned to get Sam’s attention, but he was busy rummaging in the bag on the floor of the Impala, past the pie, beer, and beef jerky for one of his apples. “OK, sure” he said sounding neither okay nor sure about whatever the caller was describing.

Having found his apple, Sam bit with a noisy crunch, staring out the windshield at the comings and goings of the Gas n Sip while Dean finished up the call.

“We’ll be there…” Dean jerked his arm, hitching up his Fed Suit shirt and jacket to reveal his watch “three, four hours maybe?” He gestured up and down at himself while mouthing “Change” to Sam. Sam sighed to himself knowing this at least meant an interesting case. If they were driving out now right after finishing their last case instead of crashing at a nearby motel, something had to be worth it. Good thing, too, since this last case wasn’t their thing anyways. He couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation as Dean got out to rummage for normal clothes in the trunk.

Dean popped his head in the Impala window, off the phone and sporting a devilish grin. “Shake a leg and get changed.”

He jogged away leaving Sam to yell at his back “Seriously?”

Dean didn’t spill the beans until they were back on the road and Sam had finally broken down to give Dean an edgy “So?”

Dean turned, eyebrows wiggling “Siren.”

Sam’s forehead crinkled “Siren?”

“Si-ren.” Dean drawled, focusing back on the road. “Garth said, well, he’s pretty sure it’s a Siren, but basically too much for him to handle.  He’s been staking things out, trying to get close, but ah, he said something’s off. He was pretty certain his ship was about to crash rocks.”

“Well, we all seem to drive land yachts, so…”

“You leave Baby alone and just…” He suppressed a smile and waved his hand at Sam “do your research thing.”

Hours later and Sam was still buried in his laptop. Dean mindlessly drummed the steering wheel to the beat of an AC/DC tune he’d probably heard a million times but still couldn’t get enough of. “Sammy, man, haven’t you found anything yet?”

With a sigh Sam snapped the laptop shut “Legends, myths, the downfall of man, but nothing solid. Bronze has come up enough that I’m pretty sure it does the trick.”

“All right, what about the singing or music or whatever?”

“Just in the old stories of sailors being lured to their deaths.”

“Hm.” He brought a hand up to wipe at his mouth. “All right, so we stake the place out. See what we can see. Garth said she’s shacking up with her latest vic. Not sure how much time we got. The last one off’d himself, or she did it.”

The brothers rolled up across the street from a picture perfect house in an upscale cookie cutter housing tract that could be Anytown, USA. It sat raised up a few feet from street level and a small set of stairs to the first floor brought it even higher. Sam had to lean down to scope the scene outside Dean’s window. Just the first floor was lit. The shadows of two figures could be seen beyond the gauzy curtains standing in what was probably the living room.  

“What say we take a closer look?” Dean drove around the corner and parked under the darkness of a large tree, out of the glaring streetlights. They loaded up items from their trunk, Sam handing Dean the bronze dagger.

They strolled up to the house, their easy strides seeming to say just paying a good friend a visit. Until they turned before the stairs towards the side of the house. Obscured by hedges and rose bushes, they each took a spot on one side of a window.

“Uh?” Sam was a little surprised.

“Yeah, um, OK.” Dean was just as puzzled and he pulled out his phone. “No service.” Sam turned towards Dean, watched as his brother waved his phone in the air. “This is the address.” Dean shrugged at Sam.

“Not exactly as I imagined. She’s …” Sam peeked in the window again. A man who looked like he was probably the star quarterback in high school ten years ago was having an argument with a woman possibly about the same age, though almost definitely he was out of her league.

“Sayin’ she’s got all kinds of cushion for any kinda pushin.” Dean kept a careful eye out as the two inside circled each other.

Sam pursed his lips at Dean before turning back to the window. The argument was heating up, their voices were raised, gestures pointed and sharp. Sam tried to pick out the words but couldn’t make any sense of it through the closed window. “There _is_ something off about this, her.”

“I mean she’s not… ” Dean shrugged a little “She’s not bad. Little spicy it seems. Spice is good.”

Sam pulled his eyes away from the fight long enough to give Dean a What The Hell Face that Dean didn’t seem to notice or was ignoring on purpose. Something large shattered inside the house.

“Ooh, grandfather clock. That’s our cue, Sammy.”

They jogged around front and as Sam pushed the doorbell, Dean sniffed and steeled himself for whatever was about to happen next.

You opened the door a crack, trying to hide the distress on your face, “Yes?”

Sam, without so much as a greeting ground out “Yeah, seems like you guys were getting kinda loud?”

It was Dean’s turn for the incredulous look. He smacked Sam on the arm and using his softest voice apologized. “I’m sorry, I’m Dean and my brother here, Sam, he’s, uh, not so good with his words. We were just walking by and heard the crash. You OK?”

“Who is it?!” You cringed as you felt him charge up beside you.

Dean avoided the question “Sounded pretty heavy, whatever it was, you folks need any help cleaning up or anything?” Dean kept up the nice guy routine, but eyed up the man as well. He couldn’t help the feeling that she needed to be rescued from this domestic situation, though the rational part of his mind was telling him the guy was the victim in all this.

“We’re good, thanks.” His tone was harsh and not at all appreciative. Before you could think of a way to object, buy more time, he yanked sharply on your arm “Come on, Y/N.” As you released the door he went to slam it, but Dean saw the opportunity and jammed a foot in before it could close.

“Now, just wait a second, buddy.” He still had his smile, but it was now laced with something darker. He pushed it back open to walk in, surprising both of you enough to take a few steps back.  You wrapped your sweater and then arms around yourself protectively, unsure of what else to do.

He bucked up, though, taking a wider stance as the two brothers came fully into the house. Sam closed the door behind him, his eyes bouncing back and forth between all of you.

“Don’t think you’re that good.” He nodded towards the living room. “Big clocks like that? Don’t just fall over on their own.” He was focused on the man, sizing him up. Dean could tell he was he was in fight or flight mode, neither option asserting itself yet.

“Billy.” You spoke softly, a calming hand hovering in Billy’s direction.

“No, Y/N, this isn’t ok. None of tonight is ok.” His panic was ramping up. “Nothing’s ok! Everything…everything’s broken. What’s the point.” He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “And now these clowns? You know them don’t you? Did you tell them?”

“Billy.” You were pleading now, turning back to him. You had no idea how everything had gone so far off the rails tonight, no idea how to respond to Billy. He got angry from time to time, and sure so did you, but nothing ever like this. You knew he was at the end of his rope, desperate, and that feeling could lead to him doing anything.

He broke finally, grabbing you by the arms and shaking. “You know them don’t you? You tell them all about me, us?”

Sam and Dean sprang into action, separating the two of you. Sam held Billy back by his arms while Dean moved you behind him. You clutched at Dean’s arm, needing an anchor, something to keep you from losing it.

“Buddy, you got some issues.” Dean was done messing around, but Sam just looked put out to have to keep a hold on Billy and with his eyes focused on you it seemed like he wanted you to know it was all your fault.

“Billy? I’m just - I’m just gonna pack, OK?” You finally choked out words, a fresh set of tears starting to flow.

“Fine, FINE. You know what? Excellent idea.” He thrashed around in Sam’s arms like he was trying to come after you. “I don’t want to see you ever again. You disgust me! Just take your crap and go.”

You pulled back on Dean’s arm, your hand sliding down to squeeze his, turning his attention towards you. “Will you stay for a few minutes? I don’t have much. Please?” When his eyes met yours they softened, his rigid body became a little less tense.

“Of course he will! Your knight in shining armor, right? Like you always wanted?!” Venom dripped from Billy’s voice like you’d never heard before, but you kept your attention on Dean’s gorgeous green eyes even as a small voice inside you screamed that this was not the time for noticing beautiful eyes or thick, pouty lips.

Dean nodded towards you, before swiveling his head back to Billy. “Really, friend. No need for this. Crap happens. We dump, we get dumped, circle of life, hakuna matata.” Billy dropped his head, no more fight now that you were backing away. “How about we give my brother a break huh? Maybe sit down? Ya got any whiskey?” Billy relaxed finally and Sam let go, hands hovering in case it was a fake out, but Billy just waved a hand in the direction of a small cart filled with liquor bottles and glasses. He stumbled towards the couch, flopped down on it and rubbed his eyes.

Sam followed Billy, still wary of his intentions, while Dean poured out two glasses of whiskey. Hoping things were settled down enough, you broke away upstairs. You tried not to think of how many times this scene had played out - grabbing your suitcase, hastily throwing in everything from your side of the closet and your two drawers. In the bathroom, you swiped your whole arm down your side of the counter and your edge of the bathtub filling your toiletries bag clumsily. You shook it with more force than needed to get things settled enough that the zipper could close.

You took one last look around the bedroom even though you knew you had all the few items you owned packed up already. You tried hard to keep the memories at bay. The first time he told you he loved you as the two of you drifted off to sleep that cold February night. His breakfast in bed disaster when the tray had collapsed sending waffles one way, bacon the other and orange juice (thankfully not coffee) all over wrecking your plans for a lazy Sunday, but how you laughed at the absurdity even when two days later you found a stray piece of bacon under the bed. The first morning after he lost his dad and how you just held him for hours while he cried and vented his anger at such an unfair world.

When you came down the stairs a few minutes later as promised, you walked onto a scene quite different than the one you left. Dean and Billy were talking quietly on the sofa as Sam was sweeping up glass in front of the grandfather clock which had been lifted into its original position.

Dean looked up at you with soft eyes, “Hey.” But Billy didn’t move at all.

“Billy, I … I just…” He held up a hand to stop you, still not turning around. So many goodbyes under your belt, but they never got any easier, you never had the words. “I’m sorry.” You wanted to look into his eyes one more time, really convey how sorry you were about all of it, everything. You realized Billy’s stubbornness wasn’t going to let this happen so you turned your attention to Dean and Sam. “Thank you.” Sam continued to sweep, but Dean gave you a sweet smile. Even after everything, it made your heart flutter just enough that you noticed. Realizing the wrongness of the moment, you finally turned away to head out.

“Dean,” Sam was quiet, his tone cautioning.

“Hey, Y/N wait up.” Dean jogged after you, but you didn’t even consider stopping for him until you had reached the curb realizing you had nowhere to go. He stood in front of you, but you were reluctant to meet his eyes again. You were seconds out of a relationship and just feeling a flutter of something for someone else felt twelve kinds of wrong.

“Y/N, do you have someone you can stay with? A friend?” Dean was full of concern, but it just ramped up the guilt you felt. You stared down the street, trying not to let the fear of finding yourself completely on your own again eat at you.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you risked looking at him again. His eyes were just as warm and gorgeous as before. And there was that flutter again.

“Sure, sure.” He shrugged a bit smiling, “Maybe we could - I mean, I know after a night like this I could sure use a drink.”

You hadn’t even realized Sam had come out until he scoffed “What?”

The spell was broken as both you and Dean turned to him. Dean lowered his voice “Hey, Sammy, cut her some slack and me too while you’re at it. A drink or two. A little _chat_.” The emphasis on chat and an unspoken exchange between the brothers had you puzzled.

“Fine,” Sam spat.

“Here let me, we’re just up the street.” Before you knew what was happening, Dean was reaching for your bag and almost at the same time, Sam was reaching into Dean’s jacket.

“Y/N, take the keys!” Sam’s arm swung up and a shiny something was lobbed your way.

Instinct took over and you reached out to grab, but as soon as you made contact a searing pain was shooting up your arm, to your chest and out your throat as a scream. Not quick enough, your hand opened again and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle. Everything was moving in a sick slow motion and you watched as it fell to the ground, your mind unable to recognize the item until it lay on the sidewalk. A dagger. It felt like forever as you swung your eyes down to your palm, impossibly unharmed and absolutely normal, and back up to the brothers frozen in front of you. Dean’s face was painted with hurt and concern while Sam’s was disgustingly smug.

“What the hell, man!” Dean rushed towards you and time sped up to normal, the change making you dizzy.

“Had to be sure. What were you gonna do?”

Your mind was reeling, for the second time in the same night your whole world changed. Unable to move as the weight of a million questions rooted you to the sidewalk, you watched as Dean examined your hand then arm for damage, confusion clouding his face when he realized you appeared to be perfectly fine. “Y/N?”

“Who. Are. You?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you going to kill me?” You had finally managed another question since the sidewalk, your voice barely loud enough to be heard over the Impala’s engine.

Dean was quick to look back at you in the rear view mirror, obviously hurt. “No, we’re not.”

You risked another glance at Sam beside you. The contempt rolling off of him turned your stomach, forcing you to look away. “I don’t think your brother agrees.”

Your mind was starting to get back up to speed, starting to let go of some of the questions that plagued you in favor of finding a way out. Both men were over six feet tall and while they each wore layers of shirts under their jackets you could tell they were strong. You couldn’t possibly fight your way out of this. An inappropriate laugh bubbled out of you as you remembered your failed attempts at kickboxing and Zumba classes - zero stamina, mediocre coordination.

“Wanna share?” Sam sliced his way through your thoughts.

“Not with you.” Your fight was coming back all right, giving Sam a run for his money in the bitchface department. You caught a smirk from Dean and that was all you needed to start psyching yourself up for whatever was about to come. He was on your side and with that you’d find a way to turn things around.

The car slowed and turned into the parking lot of a rundown motel, a wiggle of doubt nagged at you, but you pushed it back down.

“Sammy, you go get the room.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

Another unspoken conversation seemed to happen between the brothers as you wondered why Sam would be concerned for his _brother_ in this situation.

“Fine.” Sam wrenched the door open, exiting quickly and slamming the door shut.

“Hey!” Dean yelled at his brother’s back. With a sigh he turned back to you. “I’m sorry. He…” Dean let an uncertain wave of his hand stand in for an explanation he couldn’t provide. “Let’s get your things.”

You followed him out of the car and back to the trunk. “You’re leaving me here? Just like that?”

He paused after setting your suitcase on the ground, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Not exactly.”

You watched as he retrieved another bag from the trunk and your heart almost stopped. It was then you noticed the strange symbols painted on the interior. You knew it was a horrible idea, but you couldn’t help but turn and run.

“Y/N!” Dean caught you after only a few steps and forced you to look at him. “Please, Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You looked up, trying to calm yourself, trying to find the truth in those impossibly beautiful green eyes. You felt the flutter in your heart again as he silently pleaded with you. His breathing had become heavy too and you couldn’t understand why.

“We’re - we’re just going to talk, OK?”

“Just talk?” Something in the way he looked at you made you want to trust him, made you want to believe that he was a good man.

“Just talk, OK?” The hands that had been holding you in place by the shoulders drifted down and back up your arms in an attempt to soothe.

You nodded your acceptance and walked back towards the Impala, Dean following behind with a hand at the small of your back guiding you gently.

Sam was making his way back to the car too, a motel key clutched firmly in his hand.

“What about him?” You asked Dean.

“He’ll be fine, won’t ya, Sammy?” It was more of a threat to Sam, than a reassurance.

All three of you filed into a room just as shabby as you imagined it would be given the outside of the property. Two queen sized beds were to the right, heavily patterned bedspreads hiding stains you’d rather not think about. A kitchenette was to the left with a small table and two chairs pushed up against the wall. You guessed the bathroom was behind the door in the back and you hoped you wouldn’t have to find out for sure.

Dean chucked his duffle on the bed closest to the front and laid your suitcase on the other one. Sam took a seat on the bed with the duffle, resting his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. Dean rooted around in the kitchen the cabinets until he found what he was looking for: glasses. You remained awkwardly standing by the door waiting for whatever was coming next.

“Sit,” Dean smiled and gestured at the table. You should have been feeling unsettled but you quickly made yourself comfortable as you watched Dean set down the glasses. He returned to his duffle to pull out a bottle of whiskey. He shook it at you with a smile as he returned to the table. You found yourself able to smile right back at him, so long as you were ignoring Sam’s presence.

“Think we’re gonna need this.” He poured some whiskey in each of the three glasses, pushing one at you and then holding one out for Sam.

“I’ll pass.”

“He’s the life of the party, isn’t he.” You and Dean shared another smile as you both knocked back a shot. Dean took Sam’s right after his own.

“Let’s get on with this.” Sam’s sharpness hadn’t changed its intensity at all since Billy’s.

“Jesus,” you muttered as you reached for the bottle to pour yourself and Dean another shot.

Dean gave his brother some side eye before looking back at you. “Well, let’s start easy, all right? Tell me about you.”

You almost snorted “Damn, like, let’s just aim for making this sound like the worst first date _ever_.”

Dean laughed, his smile going all the way up to his eyes.

“Well, once upon a time…”

“Would you take this seriously?” Sam stood up, his height unnerving with him this close and you seated.

“You want me to take this seriously?” You waved an arm around the room, your smile gone. “If I took this seriously, I probably would have lost my god damn marbles by now. My life’s gone to shit tonight, twice, and I can’t run from either of you! Dean already proved that. I just have to sit here and take whatever is about to happen because obviously you’re not giving me any other choice. So forgive me for falling back on crap jokes as a defense mechanism.” You took your shot of whiskey, defiance burning bright in your eyes.

“Sam, outside.” Dean pushed him back out the door, closing it behind him.

After a second, you couldn’t help but follow to the door, leaning into it, hoping they would stay close enough to hear.

“Man, I don’t know what your problem is-”

“Dean!” Sam cut him off. “You know what she is, but you’re falling for it. She’s getting her hooks into you and until we know more about her, we don’t know how dangerous that could be.” What you were? Your thoughts went back to the dagger, making you suck in your breath.

Dean scoffed, “I got this covered. It’s fine.”

“I’m telling you, you don’t.” Sam was still stern, but you could hear the undercurrent of brotherly concern. “All these years? I know when you’re into someone, Dean.” You felt your face go white hot, blushing at the thought. “I’ve never questioned your taste and I still don’t. But think logically, she doesn’t quite fit your normal profile, does she?”

Dick! Obviously it didn’t escape you that Dean was handsome as hell and you? You knew you weren’t beautiful, you could probably stand to have a few more salads, a lot more salads, but dammit you held your own. Plenty of cute or handsome men had been interested in you in the past.

You realized you didn’t want to hear any more and you sat back down at the table deflated, toying with your glass until the brothers reentered the room. You sized them up and realized their conversation had adjusted each of their attitudes. Sam was a little less pissed off, but Dean was more distant, detached. If you were honest, that was disappointing.

“Sorry, where were we?” Dean sat back down at the table with you, pouring you another drink. Sam took up his spot on the bed again, this time leaning back on his hands.

You sighed, “What exactly did you want to know about me?”

“Where were you born?” Sam asked, surprisingly gentle.

“Nevada.”

“When?”

“November 3rd, 1987.”

“Were you adopted?”

“No.” What the hell kinds of questions were these?

Sam paused his interrogation, examining you. You found you didn’t like that feeling at all and turned back to Dean. “What about you, what do you want to know?”

“Ever been married?”

“What? I - no.” You went back to toying with your glass.

“How many boyfriends have you had?”

You felt your face heat up again as you looked back up to him “What does that matter?”

Dean didn’t answer you, but his eyes went sad as he reached into his jacket pocket. He slowly pulled out the dagger. He saw your body go rigid and he held out his other hand, palm towards you, trying to show he meant no harm. You watched as he laid it gently on the table between the two of you and he slowly looked back up to you. “Pick it up?” He asked softly.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the table and him. Your heart started racing, remembering what happened last time you touched it. You finally held his gaze, silently pleading with him.

After a moment, he shook his head, breaking away from you. “Just put a finger on it, less than a second.” He swallowed thickly. “Prove my brother wrong.”

You turned to Sam, he had leaned forward and looked like he was holding his breath.

“Shit.” You whispered. You reached your right hand out, frowning when you couldn’t stop it from slightly shaking. Both of them were watching you now. Just a knife, just an ordinary knife. You curled your fingers down leaving only your index finger straight. You stopped just before the dagger, took a deep breath and touched it.

“Son of a bitch!” You yanked your arm back, the pain only shooting up to your wrist this time, but still it was a burn more intense than you’d ever known. Dean grabbed for your hand, looking for where you’d been hurt.

“Nothing. She’s fine.” He directed his comment to his brother like you weren’t even there.

You pulled out of his grasp and stood up. “Fine? Fine?! In no way am I _fine_. What the hell is that thing?” You stared at Dean, daring him to speak.

Sam quietly responded. “It’s bronze.”

“Bronze?!” You shook your head, more in an attempt to clear it than anything else. The questions were flooding your mind again, overwhelming you, you felt your eyes go wide, you couldn’t blink, your heart pounding so hard in your chest it almost hurt. You backed away towards the door, your body begging you to run.

Dean was on his feet quickly, hands out and bent down a little like he was approaching a wild animal. You realized how ridiculously appropriate that was. That’s what you were, some wild animal, some creature, some _thing_. Dean was in front of you now, but you realized your grasp on processing what was going on was slowly fading. You felt him take ahold of you, pulling you into him, quietly urging you to breathe. You stood still, useless, arms at your side.

“Feel my breaths, OK? Try to match them.” He took a few deep breaths before you were able to catch on and attempt to control your breathing. Slowly you felt yourself come back, your arms wrapped around him, trying to take the comfort he was so desperate to give. You began quietly sobbing as this new reality sunk in. “Shhh. It’s gonna be OK. You’re gonna be OK.” Dean brought a hand up to smooth your hair and tuck your head under his chin. He waited until your sobs eased and your breathing slowed before pulling back enough to cup your face in his hands. “We’re gonna figure this out OK?”

He looked so determined and you wanted to believe so bad. Your eyes drifted down to his full lips, slightly parted. Something in you wanted you to lean forward, taste them. It seemed his breath hitched and you searched his eyes, wondering if he was feeling the same as you.

“Dean.” Sam cautioned.

A few intense seconds passed and Dean reluctantly pulled back. You felt the loss of him like some part of yourself was being pulled away. Were you imagining it? Was pulling back just as hard on him as it was on you?

“Dean, back up.” Out of your peripheral vision you saw Sam stand up.

You watched as Dean’s breathing became heavier as he forced himself to take a few steps back, his hands balled into fists.

Sam stood before you, blocking your line of sight to Dean. “Y/N?” You focused on him now, on how gentle he had become. “Y/N, we think -” he cut himself off, struggling.

“What?” You reached out to him, but he moved back just enough.

“Y/N, I know this sounds crazy, impossible. But trust me, trust us.” His hand went over his heart and you focused on that, not sure if you wanted to hear what was next. “Y/N, you’re a Siren.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had managed to get you sitting at the table with him and you eagerly took your waiting shot. You needed it to get through his explanation, how he and his brother were _hunters_ , the word causing your stomach to lurch. There were things out there that had just been stories minutes ago, still felt that way as you struggled to accept a new reality. Your new reality. Sam faded out as you watched Dean pace in the small area between the beds, lost in his own thoughts. You looked backwards through your life, searching for the truth.

“I ruin men’s lives.” You whispered, puzzle pieces snapping together in your head.

Dean stopped his pacing, “So, a confession? What do you do, Y/N?”

As soon as you saw his disappointment, you propped your elbows on the table and buried your head in your hands. “I don’t _do_ anything. It just - things happen. Things always happen. I thought I just had really crap luck.” You groaned as your life became clearer to you; the path your life had taken which had seemed to meander developed a pattern. All the joyous highs followed quickly by tragic lows. Up, down, up, down as you fell in love, fell to pieces, fell in love, fell to pieces. Anger flared within you, your fingers weaving into your hair and pulling.

You counted to ten and channeled your anger into action. “Can you fix this? You’re here to help me, right?” You pleaded to both the brothers, hands outstretched on the table. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Sam’s features had hardened again. “We don’t know. We don’t know enough about this. I’m watching it happen right before me, but I still don’t know.”

“I told you, I don’t do anything. I’m not doing anything.”

A few tense moments passed as you watched each other, Sam being the first to break by standing up from the table too quickly. A long stride and a half and he was pulling his laptop from his things, settling himself on the bed.

Dean sat back down with you at the table, an unsure hand that seemed to want to take yours slid across the table, stopping just short. With a small shake of his head, he withdrew and clasped his hands under the table. “We’ll figure it out. Sammy’s gonna keep looking and we’re - we’re gonna talk. And drink.” He smiled tightly at you.

“How are you gonna drink when you can’t let go of your own hands?” You realized you were still mad and lashing out. You dropped your voice, “Sorry. I’m sorry, Dean.” And you were sorry for more than just lashing out. You were sorry that you were now their problem. You were sorry you’d gotten your hooks in as Sam said.

“Maybe, just back up a bit, yeah?” Dean tilted his head towards your arms on the table.

“Feels like the last thing I wanna do right now, though.” With some effort, you drew back your arms and leaned back in your chair.

“Didn’t want to ask it of you.” His face warmed. He reached for the bottle, hovering over your glass first.

“No, no more. My head’s swimming enough.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough. Might change your mind in a moment, though.”

“Why?”

He sighed, knocked back his shot with a hint of grimace and looked back to you. “Now, I’m not one for the kiss and tell, but I figure while Sammy’s hitting the books, I oughta hit-” His eyes went wide and he gave a flustered chuckle. “What the hell? Sorry, I - I meant. Maybe we oughta get into you - no.” He raked a hand over his head.

“If this wasn’t so serious, I’d find it hilarious how off your game you are, Dean.” Sammy said flatly, never taking his eyes off the screen.

Dean cleared his throat, shook out his arms before resting them on the table and made another attempt. “Just meant, maybe there’s some clues in your past?”

You tried to ignore the awkwardness “Like what?”

“Tell me about your first boyfriend.”

The hits just kept coming. You had struggled for so long to get past what happened, to stop thinking about him every minute, hour, day. And then struggled with the guilt for _not_ thinking about him. You bit your lip at the fresh guilt from realizing you hadn’t thought about Billy this whole time.

“Y/N?”

You took a deep breath. “His name was Trevor. He moved into town our Junior year in high school.” You smoothed invisible wrinkles from the arm of your sweater, trying to find the right words. “He was really cute and that’s what made all the girls crazy for him at first. But, it was like he was made of sunshine. He just wanted everyone to have a good time, always getting everyone to laugh. But it was never mean or at anyone’s expense. He was kind.” It felt good to remember him like that and you realized you were smiling. Dean was smiling too, waiting for you to continue.

“So with all of that I was kinda surprised he asked me out. I mean, he had his pick. Our first date he drove us out into the desert, one of his favorite things to do since he moved to town. We just sat back in his jeep, talked for hours, looked up at the stars. When we realized neither one of us knew any constellations besides the Big and Little Dippers, we started naming our own.” You sighed. “I really want to just leave it there.”

“Y/N, there’s more to that story.” Dean leaned forward. “Tell me.”

You let your eyes close. “It was high school, so every month we celebrated our anniversary. It was our five month and Trevor thought we should go out to the desert again like our first date, but we’d make it special. He said he’d have a big surprise for me.” You opened your eyes again, drawing strength from Dean to continue. “Never found out what it was though. He’d gotten his older brother to buy us beer and we were stupid. Drinking it the whole way there, to ‘our spot’, so he didn’t - we didn’t realize we’d gone off course. Next thing I knew, we were upside down in the dry creek bed and he - it was -” You clamped your lips shut, trying to fight back the tears.

Dean slid a hand until his fingertips were just over on your own. “There wasn’t anything I could do. I didn’t have a cell phone. We were already off the main road. I tried to go as fast as I could, but there weren’t many cars when I got back to the road. Two cars passed me before I could flag one down.” You wiped the tears away hastily with the sleeve of your sweater. “It was too much time. I took too long.”

“You did what you could.”

“It wasn’t enough.” Dean’s understanding face just made you feel worse. His fingers that were now softly stroking yours should have been a comfort, but you refused it and pulled back.

Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry.”

You shifted focus to the bottle on the table and waved away his concern. Maybe you _were_ going to need another drink, or two, or twelve. Your hand shot out to the bottle. In seconds your little glass was filled, empty and slammed back down on the table. “Next question.”

“Was that night his idea or yours?” Sam asked flatly, looking up from his laptop. You’d almost forgotten he was still in the room.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “His.”

“The beer? Your idea?”

“His brother’s.” You were harsh. Out of everything you blamed yourself for that night, you weren’t going to let him add to the list.

Sam stared at you for another moment before returning to his laptop. You turned to Dean “How is this helping?”

“We have to know more.” He replied simply.

“We or _you_?” Your anger was rising again and it made you sick.

Dean didn’t back down though. “Who was next?” He whispered.

“Josef. College. Community college. The rest of high school didn’t go quite as planned.” Your hands slid back to the grip the table. You didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to feel this.

“How’d it end?” Dean managed to keep it level and somehow that only infuriated you more.

“He was deported.” You pushed yourself back from the table. “Just stop, please.” You begged. The urge to run flared within you again, but you knew you couldn’t escape this, them. You uselessly paced the room.

Sam closed his laptop. “The next one, Y/N?”

“Simon.”

“What’d you d-” you stopped pacing and faced Sam. “What happened to him?”

“Prison.”

Sam was intense, eyes hard. He slowly stood from the bed. “Next.”

“Dave.” You balled your fists, anger coursing heavy through your veins. Who did they think they were?

“And?”

“He killed himself.” Your vision tunneled as you watched Sam slowly move from the bed, to the center of the room, and closer to the table. Your breathing was heavy now as you fought to control your anger.

“Next!” Sam ground out at you.

“Billy.”

“We know enough of what happened there. _Next!_ ”

In your confusion, your eyes flicked to Dean, realizing he was standing now, too. Not as challenging as Sam, but just as ready.

“Dean. Dean’s next?” Sam picked the dagger up from the table, your anger rising to a level you hadn’t realized existed.

You could feel the panic creeping in. These brothers had you trapped in this filthy motel room. They were standing between you and the door and you were pretty sure in a place like this when a woman screamed people weren’t too quick to come running. “He’s not - he - just stop, please. Don’t do this.”

Sam took a step forward, ignoring Dean’s hand on his arm. “I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but there better be a way to undo it.”

“I told you already!” You were practically snarling, the panic and anger quickly slipping out of your control. “I don’t _do_ anything!”

“I don’t believe you.” Sam advanced on you, his mere presence forcing you back into the bathroom door. He held the dagger up to your face where you could see how dangerously close it was to you. “You get your hooks outta my brother.”

He pressed the tip of the blade to your cheek and instantly your vision was white, a searing hot pain ripped through your skull and careened down the rest of your body. You blindly reached out and grasped his neck pushing back as hard as you could. You felt him fly back, the pain easing as you blinked a few times to clear your vision.

Sam was crumpled across the room at door, dazed. Dean was caught in the middle, unable to decide who to aid first and the pain of that was clear on his face.

“What the hell! What _the hell_!” You moaned. “I’m sorry, Sam, I don’t - I’m sorry.” Your hands scrabbled at the door behind you. Dean finally made up his mind, crouching next to his brother, feeling his head for any damage.

Sam looked up at his brother, “She touched me, Dean.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam looked up at his brother, “She touched me, Dean.”

Your hand found the knob and in one quick movement you were on the other side of the door, locking yourself in.

You backed away from the door, your mind scrambling to understand what just happened. You realized your anger had vanished, your body was free of the harsh tension that had built during the interrogation. You were frightened, frightened that you were that powerful, frightened that you might have actually hurt Sam, and frightened that they may have changed their minds and might actually want to kill you. And if that were true, could you protect yourself again?

You reached for a complimentary shampoo bottle and squeezed with all your might. The hard plastic barely gave under the weak pressure. Your arm reared back and you threw it with all you had against the wall. It ricocheted off the wall, to the toilet, and down to the ground. You still threw like a baby.

What the hell. It kept repeating in your mind, blocking your attempts to work through the events that just happened.  You sat back on the edge of the bathtub, elbows your your knees, head in your hands. You shut your eyes to focus, trying to remember how you summoned such strength. You knew why, but it didn’t make it OK. And Sam. Sam was just trying to protect his brother.

“Y/N?” Dean. You couldn’t tell from his flat tone of voice what he was feeling so you remained quiet. “Y/N, you need to come out.” Stern, but not threatening. You still couldn’t be sure of his intentions and you had no idea if you could put up any sort of fight again.

You thought you heard a sigh from the other side of the door. “Sam’s not here. It’s just me. Just open up.”

“Why?” You blurted, your hand coming up so your teeth could worry at the skin of your thumb.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Not unless you try to hurt me, OK?” His voice had gone softer, almost pleading. You wanted to believe him.

You reached for the knob, turning the lock until it clicked. You paused, waiting to see if he would burst in. When he didn’t, you pulled the door open. He was just on the other side, bracing himself with an arm on each side of the frame. His head hung a little low, those gorgeous emerald eyes sparkling just a little less, but as intense as ever. “You all right?”

You scoffed, “Am I all right?” You shook your head in disbelief. “What about Sam?”

“He’s…fine.”

“Fine? I threw him across the room, Dean.”

He brought a hand to your shoulder, squeezing down your arm “You were defending yourself.”

“He’s your brother. Shouldn’t you be more upset? Why are you trying to excuse this?” You swatted his arm away. You didn’t deserve comfort, understanding.

A crooked smile spread across his face. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.” He shrugged. “Feels right, though. And Sammy’ll be fine. He’s lived through worse.”

He seemed to be telling the truth. It was both comforting and sickening. You felt that intangible pull towards him and with the warmth in his eyes, that crooked smile still on his face, you knew he felt the same. Even after all you’d seen and felt, you didn’t want to believe this was a trick. The possibility that he wouldn’t feel this way if you weren’t somehow taking advantage of him made your stomach turn.

You broke past him, trying to shake off the moment. “Where’d he go?” You put a few feet between the two you and turned to face him.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “To get help.”

“Like…the police?”

He laughed, drawing out the crinkles around his eyes. “No, no police.”

“I’m so tired of feeling in the dark, feeling like I’m _stupid_ , just tell me what’s going on.” You felt your fists clench, your nails digging into your palms.

He straightened himself up, dropping the smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just that the police are usually the least helpful with this stuff.” He took a couple steps towards you, but you stood your ground, waiting. “He - we both realized we’re sorta out of our depth here and with both of us being infected - shit, no - affected -”

“No, you meant that. Infected.” You glared as his eyes went wide, his hands up defensively.

“Affected. I mean affected.” He paused gauging your reaction, watching as some of your tension released before continuing “We need someone with a little more experience. He went to go find him.”

“Another _hunter_?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, unless he’s staying next door, I say you probably have some time to explain.” You had enough. He _was_ going to tell you what was going on, and your desire for that, no, _need_ , overwhelmed any sense of dignity or ethics.  You grabbed his arms and pulled until you were both seated on the bed, cross-legged and facing each other. You placed your left hand on his thigh and cupped his face with your right. He leaned into your touch. “Tell me.”

“You’ve been through a lot tonight. I don’t want to make it worse if I don’t have to. He may not even come.” His hands moved forward to your knees, his thumbs rubbing circles. You tried to push down the heat of desire he ignited. You needed answers first.

“If I’m going to meet someone else, I want to be on equal footing. They’re gonna know about me, right?” Your right hand slowly slid around his neck, your nails scratching through his short hair.

He closed his eyes for a moment, nodding. He looked back to you before speaking. “He’s an angel.”

Your hands froze, you felt your mouth open to speak, but your mind couldn’t put any words together.

His grip on you tightened as he rushed to speak “He’ll help us. He’s gotta know somethin’. And Sammy thinks you may not be able to - ” he was trying to avoid his earlier mistake. “He’ll keep a clear head about this.”

You turned this over in your mind. Angels were real. What else was real? God? The devil? How was all this out there, how were you out there and no one knew. Not even yourself.

“Say something.” He pleaded with you, he rubbed his strong hands further up your leg, digging into the tension in your legs you weren’t even aware of until then. It felt so good, so delicious, and you wondered at how good his hands might feel elsewhere, everywhere.

You brought both your arms up, holding his face in your hands, your thumbs ruffling through the stubble. “You’re not making it easy,” you smiled and nodded down. “How am I supposed to work through this existential crisis when that’s going on?”

“Eh, it’s overrated.” He shrugged a shoulder up. “Just do what I do.”

“What’s that?”

“Distract yourself.” Faster than you could react, he had uncrossed your legs, grabbed you at the waist and pulled until you were sitting on his lap. Your faces were inches apart now, your forearms on his chest, hands gripping his shirt the only things keeping you back. His eyes, darker now, slid from yours down to your lips as you both became breathless. He licked his lips, the quick sight of his tongue stoking your desire. You knew what was coming, you knew you should stop it, but you hungered for just one taste. Just once and you’d do right.

He brought his lips down on yours with surprisingly soft pressure, his arms snaking around your back to pull you closer. You melted into him, willing to give him anything he wanted. You moved your arms over his shoulders so you could press chest to chest, but he needed more. He grabbed at your ass, pulling you down to grind against him as he deepened the kiss. The taste of him, his hardness right against your core  prompted an involuntary moan from the back of your throat. You felt his lips curl up, before he intensified the kiss, devouring you. You ground into him again, pulling him closer and it was his turn to groan in response.

Something snapped in you and you scrambled back away from him, panting, until you were stopped by the head board, knees drawn up to your chest. He was too dazed to keep a grip on you, one arm outstretched snatching at air. “Stop. We have to stop.” You held a palm out to him and you tried to catch your breath. So much of you wanted nothing more than to crawl back to him, but this was insane.

He crawled forward to you, eyes full of concern and confusion, until his chest was against your palm “Y/N?”

“This isn’t right. You’re not - this isn’t you. It’s me.” The guilt washed over you, cold and sharp.

“Are you really doing the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ thing?” His playfulness didn’t quite cover the hurt you knew he was feeling.

“It’s because of what I am. You wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.” You looked away, remembering what Sam had said. “I know I’m not your type. You’ve probably never been with anyone less than a nine, with your stupid muscles and blue steel.” Ridiculous, childish, but how could you help but think it wasn’t just him. Would any of the men you’d been with have even looked at you twice if you weren’t what you supposedly were? Was any of it real?

“You’re right.” He drew away from your hand, sitting back. You couldn’t bear to look back up at him, to face the truth. “Good thing I think you’re a ten.”

You sneaked a look at him out of the corner of your eye. “On a scale of one to a hundred you mean?”

“Nope, standard scale.” He moved to sit with you at the headboard, shoulder to shoulder. You’d be lying if you said you missed it when he adjusted himself through his jeans.

You sighed. “It’s just the…Siren-ness? Or whatever.” You waved a lazy hand dismissively, but he caught it and laced his fingers with yours.

“Maybe. Maybe not. My head feels clear. No part of me is fighting this. Even when someone’s hypnotized, hell, even possessed, there’s always a true part of yourself that knows what’s going on, fighting it.” He nudged your shoulder. “I’m not fighting any of this. I want it.” His voice deepened. “All of me wants this.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

His voice, his touch threatened the logical control you had over yourself, chipped away at your willpower. He had felt so amazingly good, better than anyone you’d ever been with. You settled for leaning into his shoulder, a compromise to let you be closer while trying to lessen the risk of it getting heated again.

He rested his head against yours, drawing his thumb back and forth over your hand, allowing you both to be silent for awhile.

The door to the motel room opened, a grim but handsome man wearing a trench coat over a disheveled suit entered and was immediately followed by Sam. Both you and Dean had looked up, but otherwise remained as you were.

“Cas.” Dean calmly greeted the man…the angel you corrected yourself.

“Dean.” He returned, equally cool.

You and this angel sized each other up. _This_ was an angel? If Dean hadn’t told you, you would’ve assumed he was an accountant or some mid level manager somewhere. Your grip on Dean’s hand tightened and it didn’t go unnoticed by the angel. His head tilted slightly, his eyes became even more focused. “I’m Castiel.”

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You pushed out.

Castiel quietly stared at you, leaving you feeling so exposed. You turned your attention away, noticing Sam with his back against the motel door, shifting uncomfortably. You tried to pick apart the mix of emotions on his face. You saw hurt and anger as his eyes fell to Dean, but a brief smile lit up his face as he looked to you. He covered it up quickly, clearing his throat and looking away.

Castiel moved closer to the bed “Do you wish to be free of this?”

“I don’t even know what _this is_.” The hand not anchored to Dean swept out to your side.

“It’s a curse.” Castiel replied simply.

“You’re telling me.” You scoffed.

Castiel’s head titled. “Yes, I did.”

“So can you use your angel mojo to cure her, Cas?” Dean drew your hand to his lap, folding his other one over protectively.

“If that’s what she wants. If she’s willing to give this up.” He never looked away, responding to Dean but speaking to both of you.

“What- what am I giving up up?” You asked shakily. Until tonight you had no idea what you were, had no idea that you were powerful enough to throw a grown man across a room. What else was there? Were there things that were worse?

“Perhaps ignorance is bliss.” Castiel replied.

You nodded, and tried to let that sink in. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t know you had.  Would you ever find out? And even if you did would there be anything there that you’d truly regret giving up? Your eyes flashed to Dean. Sure, he looked at you reassuringly now, his hand gripping yours, but after? It was selfishness you knew. It was only a matter of time before you destroyed him and he’d happily follow you to the end.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Fine. What do we have to do?”

“I have to acquire a few items first.” Castiel responded.

“How long is that gonna take?” Sam was trying to maintain his composure, but his words sliced through you anyways.

Castiel seemed to think on it a moment “An hour, maybe two.” He looked at each of you, making sure all were in agreement.

Dean spoke for all of you. “Whatever you need to do, man.”

“I’ll come with,” Sam pushed himself up to full height.

Castiel shook his head, “Where I need to go…you should remain here.” With the sound like a flutter of wings, it was like he’d never been there.

“So, now what? Just wait?” You bit your lip nervously as your eyes bounced between the brothers.

“Seems so.” Dean smiled at you, squeezing your hand again reassuringly.

Sam remained silent, folding himself down into a chair. He poured himself a shot and knocked it back, keeping his gaze locked on the table in front of him.

“Was Castiel able to tell you anything else about me?”

“Wasn’t much time but he confirmed our theory. Your infection spreads through touch.”

Dean felt your body go tense with that word again and his brother seemed to be refusing to look at you. “Take it easy, Sam.”

A humorless laugh slipped from Sam. “Defend her, of course.”

“Yeah, I will. You’re the one that’s supposed to break things gently, sympathize, all that touchy-feely crap. Seems like you’re going outta your way to put her on edge.” Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you fought the urge to snuggle into him, wrap an arm around his torso. Instead you simply leaned into him and kept your focus on the conversation.

Sam let out a harsh sigh. “I’ve been roofied, _Dean_ , so forgive me for the lapse in sugarcoating.”

Guilt had you in its cold grip again. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to.”

He finally looked to you, his face pinched. “Doesn’t mean much. It happened and here we are. What’s worse is that you’ve got my brother too. All I can do is hope that whatever Cas has planned works 'cause I’ll be damned if I let you destroy my brother.”

Dean went rigid, sitting up straighter and pointing a finger “Sammy, you watch yourself, man.”

Dean’s touch which had felt so comforting now added to your guilt. How could you seek solace from him? Your insides churned and the only solution was to pull back. You eased out of Dean’s arm and off the bed, trying to ignore the pain clear on his face.

“Y/N, don’t listen to him. Remember what I told you. I’m not fightin’ it.”

You shook your head “It’s not right, Dean. We can’t.” Dean’s shoulders dropped, disappointed. His pained look starting to eat at whatever small resolve you had.

Sam’s glare was now aimed at Dean “You’re _not_ fightin’ it? Dean, wake the hell up! She could end up killing you, both of us!” Sam was so loud it was almost painful.

Dean rose off the bed, eyes wild “You need to shut the hell up, right now!”

Sam’s mouth shrugged and he spread his arms wide “Or what, Dean?”

Your heart raced as the brothers stared each other down. You wanted so badly to fix this, but all you could do was hope that Castiel would be back sooner rather than later.

“Maybe I should stop fighting too?” Sam turned back to you, a smile spreading across his face, his whole demeanor softening, leaning slightly towards you. You hadn’t noticed how beautiful his hazel eyes were, had never caught sight of the dimples framing his mouth. “What do you think, Y/N?”

Heat spread through you and for a moment you were tempted. You wondered how it’d feel to run your fingers through his hair, grip a handful of that gorgeous mane to bring his lips to yours.

You shook your head to clear it and looked back to Dean, noticing his fists clenched at his sides. “No.”

Dean’s eyes brightened at your answer and he turned to his brother with a smirk, but Sam was unwilling to accept defeat. “One little taste, huh?” He winked at you.

In the blink of an eye Dean was on Sam with a growl, hands fisting into his shirt to haul him up and against the door. “Stop! Stop!” You ran over without thinking. They grappled with each other before Sam was able to use the door as leverage to push back Dean. With the added space between them, they each brought up their arms, ready for a fist fight. You wedged yourself between them, trying to push them apart further “Please, stop this!”

They gave in to your demands and you allowed yourself a second to close your eyes, feeling only your hands on their chests, the rapid rise and fall as they panted from exertion and adrenaline. You tried, and failed, to ignore the feel of their hard muscles, the heat emanating from them.“You can’t do this. It’s not worth it. Please.” You were stern, giving each of them a hard look.

Dean looked at you, puzzled, trying to find the words, but Sam spoke first. “I’m going outside.” He gave his brother a pointed look.“ _Right_ outside. Don’t … do anything stupid.” He leaned over to grab the whiskey bottle and pushed you both aside to exit.

Warm arms encircled you as you watched the door shut. They felt amazing, safe, strong. But your guilt had an even stronger grip on you. “I - I should go talk to him.” You whispered.

Dean’s breath fanned across your neck as he whispered in return “Stay here.” His whole body pressed into you and you let yourself lean back into it, just for a little while, before you eased forward to turn and face him.

“I have to. Besides, want to make sure he doesn’t drink all the whiskey.” You put effort into your grin, attempting to alleviate the thick tension of the room.

Dean cracked a real smile, the one that brought out the crinkles around his eyes and you breathed a sigh of relief. “Fine.” He kissed your forehead before fully releasing you. “Just don’t take long.”

You tried to tame the wild butterflies of your stomach as you left the room. As promised, Sam was directly outside leaning against the Impala, hands in his jacket and whiskey bottle sitting on the asphalt. You realized you hadn’t thought of what to say once alone with Sam, his relatively calm expression and waiting eyes not helping matters.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He said simply.

You scoffed. “For what?”

“I’m not usually like this, I promise.” He looked out to the parking lot. “It’s - I’m not blaming you, don’t get me wrong, but this just isn’t me.”

You took a chance. Stuffing your hands in your jeans you moved next him, leaning against the car. He shifted closer to you. “So, if this isn’t you, Sam, what is?”

“Well for one, I’d like to think that I’m not normally such a huge dick.”

“You’re not -”

“Listen, my brother and I have been at this almost our whole lives. We’ve faced so many…” He looked down at his feet, kicking at the asphalt.

You felt the urge to place a hand on his arm, but the word _infected_ bounced around your brain and you thought better of it. “Go on.”

“For us, the lines are supposed to be clearly drawn. Human or not. Not is what we hunt.” He finally looked at you again. The sadness in his expression was almost overwhelming. “I thought you weren’t human.”

“But I am?” You had meant for it to be a statement, but after everything that had happened a hint of doubt laced your words.

Sam gave you a small nod. “Cas told me.”

You looked up to the motel sign, it’s letters blinking on and off one by one, as you turned this over in your mind. It should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. “What else did he tell you?”

“Well, based on when things started happening for you, you might’ve been cursed since you were little, even before you were born.” He nudged your shoulder with his arm, the contact warming you and you tried to push that down. “It’s not your fault, really.”

“If you knew that,” you turned to him “why the scene? Why’d you say all that?”

He pushed off the car, taking a couple steps forward and running a hand through his hair. “It’s like -” he turned back to you. “It’s like someone’s channel surfing my emotions. I look at you, it changes. Bringing Cas back, it changes. I look at Dean, it changes. Shot of whiskey, it changes.”

You glanced down at the bottle. “I didn’t want either of you drinking any more. Just in case.” He answered your unspoken question with a slightly embarrassed shrug.

Both of you were still for a few moments until you broke the silence. “What do you feel now?”

“Regret.” He replied quietly. “And your pull. It’s like you’ve got something tethered to my heart.” His face was filled with pleading, but for release or for you to pull harder, you didn’t know. “It’s why I’m out here now. I want so badly to talk with you, be next to you, and to…but I’ve got to fight this and I can’t do that near you.”

It was like a knife was plunged into you. Your brain told you that you should be relieved, that maybe you could go back inside and wait for Castiel with Dean. But it still felt like rejection to you, though you knew that idea was ridiculous. You nodded at him as you tried to swallow your tears. “I get it. It’s fine.” You hooked your thumb back towards the door. “I’m just gonna-”

“Y/N, Cas will be back soon. I’ll be out here until then.” He crossed his arms, jaw clenching. You could tell he didn’t want that and you felt the same way, but your brain stepped in and commanded your feet to move you towards the door.

You opened the door and turned your head back towards him, but found yourself unable to meet his eyes. “I’d give just about anything to take back this whole night.”

Dean was standing right inside, his face disturbingly neutral. “That so?”


	5. Chapter 5

You opened the door and turned your head back towards Sam, but found yourself unable to meet his eyes. “I’d give just about anything to take back this whole night.”

Dean was standing right inside, his face disturbingly neutral. “That so?”

Fixing one thing had broken another. “Dean, you know it’d be better for the two of you if you’d never met me.” It came out more harsh than you intended, but you stood by the truth in your words.

His sadness broke through and you’d realized how he’d been working to keep his emotions under control. “It wouldn’t be better for you. What would’ve happened tonight if we hadn’t knocked on your door?”

“I would’ve been fine.”

“Y/N, I’ve seen a few bad seeds in my time. Billy? That might’ve ended a helluva lot worse.”

You looked away from him, the intensity too much, and instead focused on a poorly patched up section of the wall. “I’m the one who ruins, destroys. I would’ve been fine, Dean.”

He closed the distance between the two of you quickly, grasping onto your arms and willing you took look at him as he spoke quietly. “He told us about everything he lost, Y/N, but what if that wasn’t enough to ruin him, huh?”

Your mind was spinning, trying to comprehend his words while fighting the urge to press closer to him. You didn’t realize you had been missing his touch, his smell, those impossibly soft lips. “What do you mean?”

“He could have killed you.”

You scoffed. “Billy’s no killer, and even so..”

“Y/N, forget that then if you don’t believe it. But what about…”  He broke off, frustrated and searching for the words.

You sensed it though. The pleading clear in his eyes before the frustration took over. And you didn’t want to hear him say it so you broke from him, pushed past him into the room trying to give yourself, the both of you, space. “Fine, just, I take back me taking back tonight, or, you know…”

“Do you?”

What way was there out of this? You sat on the bed, palms pressed together with your forefingers over your mouth and nose. You shook your head, at him, at this situation, at this night, at your whole freakin life. “I don’t know anymore.”

With careful but sure steps he made his way over and sat next to you, gently taking your hands in his. They were rough, calloused, but radiated a soothing heat and you longed to feel them all over you again.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You whispered.

“That’s not gonna happen.” He was so sure, so absolutely sure it was frightening.

“But it’s already happening. I know what you said earlier, about fighting it.” Tears were forming again. “This is a _lie_. It’s not real and I can’t do this to you.”

He sighed, clearly still determined to get you to see it his way. “Let me tell you about earlier, when me and Sam were watching you.”

“Watching me?” Caught off guard, you moved to pull back, but he kept his grip on your hands firm.

“No, not like, we were hunting you know, so it was more like recon.” An embarrassed smile softened his features. “It was just a few minutes before we knocked on your door.”

It made sense, it was logical. The awkward feeling began to melt away. “Okay.”

“When I saw you, there was something…when you were fighting, your passion… I’m not saying this right.” His smile went full blown before he ducked his head.

You reached a hand up to his face, raising it back up to look at him. As gently as you could you spoke. “We don’t know if this works only through touch. Part of me really wants to believe what you’re saying so much.” You shook your head at him before he could interrupt. “I know it feels like the truth. But there’s that possibility that it’s me, my curse, and I can’t take advantage of you. That’s what it feels like for me. And if this all changes by tomorrow I don’t…I don’t want you to feel regret, to feel used.”

It was only seconds, letting those words sink in for the both of you, and the door to the room opened without warning. Castiel strode in carrying an apple sized pouch, Sam behind with an apologetic face.

“Dean, could you stand back, please?” Castiel commanded rather than asked. Dean looked to you for permission and you gave him a slight nod. He squeezed your hand and slipped off the bed, moving to stand beside and just behind Castiel. Castiel beckoned you forward and you halted halfway as a blade slipped from his sleeve into his grip.

With his quick reflexes Dean gripped Castiel’s forearm “Cas.” Even Sam had stepped forward, fear contorting his face.

Castiel turned his head slowly to the brothers. “I need to draw a sigil in each hand for this. She’ll be fully healed after.”

Your eyes flicked to Sam and Dean, silently asking if you could trust him. Sam nodded as he stepped back. Dean released his grip on Castiel. “You’ll be OK.”

Castiel gestured for you to come forward again and stopped you as you sat on the edge of the bed. He made a palms up motion for you. When you moved into position he took hold of your left hand and carved into it with the blade. You gritted your teeth together, whimpering at the pain, as you watched a strange symbol develop out of your blood.

“Breathe.” Dean urged quietly and you tried, you really did. But when Castiel moved to your right palm, your whole body went stiff and you couldn’t pry your eyes away from the blood as it dripped down to the carpet.

“Y/N. Clasp your hands together over this.” You looked up as he mimed what he wanted you to do, but you were frozen. He took your hands again, placing the pouch between them and pushing them together as if you were praying. The cuts rubbed painfully against the rough cloth of the pouch making you cry out, your eyes filling with tears. You wanted nothing more than to pull your hands apart but they were stuck together and whatever was in that pouch started to smell foul, disgustingly, horribly foul. And there was something, some force or energy radiating out of the pouch, invading you, sickening you. Everything in you wanted to fight this, yet you didn’t know how. 

 

* * *

 

You gazed at the angel through your distorted vision and saw his hand come up, two fingers out, to make contact with your forehead.

You blinked your eyes open, fighting their heaviness, and tried to get your bearings. The room was sideways, light streaming in through curtains that couldn’t fully close. You were in bed. You felt a warm heaviness and wondered how a shabby motel could have such an insulating comforter.

Your breath quickened as memories of last night - was it last night? - came back to you. The fear, the pain, and then nothing until now.

Something stirred beside you and all at once you became aware of what your sleep addled brain had mistaken for a comforter. A strong arm was draped over your torso, your legs intertwined with two others, breath warm at the back of your neck. You tried to turn and pull away, but that strong arm pulled you back, turning you to face him.

Sleepy eyes that shone bright green met yours, a smile spreading on those unmistakable soft, full lips. “Feelin better?” His calloused hand lazily moved up and down the curves of your torso and hip, sneaking under your shirt.

“Dean - I -” frustrated and confused, words escaped you.

“Told you,” he said playfully, his words still laced with sleep.

“Told me what?”

“Maybe it wasn’t you. Cas gave you a clean bill of health, but here we are.”

“Here we are.” You smiled back at him finally, your heartbeat picking up as hope flared within you.

“How about we get some more sleep. It was a long night and it’s still early.” He moved you both closer.

“I’m not exactly thinkin’ bout sleep right now.” You were face to face with him now, lips centimeters apart.

“Me neither, but my brother’s in the next bed over.” He gave you a chaste kiss. “Maybe we can send him out to get breakfast later.” He kissed you again, slow and gentle and exactly perfect.

His lips, hands, the heat radiating from him. There was no way you wanted to go back to sleep. “Maybe you could send him out now?”

“Hmm,” he considered. His mouth moved down to your jaw line, your neck, planting soft kisses. Your hands fisted into his shirt, a little moan dropping from your lips when he found the sweet spot where your neck and shoulder met. “Sammy!”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He returned to trailing his lips over you as Sammy groaned in response. “Sammy, how about you rustle us up some breakfast? And take your time.” Dean lips found your earlobe and he gently bit down, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Dude. Gross. Just wait until I’m out.” There was some humor in his tone, his annoyed attitude partially an act. You heard him fling back the bedding.

You and Dean stilled, attempting to control yourselves, waiting not so patiently for the moment you would hear the door close.

“Hour good enough?” Sam’s grumpiness wanted to make you giggle all over again.

“Make it two, hell, three.” Dean’s eyes were ablaze with desire and naughtiness.

You couldn’t wait until Sam had left, playing with fire as you snaked a hand down until you felt Dean’s hardness through his boxer briefs. You gave a firm squeeze and Dean groaned, trying to cover it with a cough.

“Ugh.” Sam stormed out, leaving you both laughing.

Your laughter soon faded as doubt and insecurity popped up out of nowhere. “You sure you want this?” You asked timidly.

“I told you.” He pulled you in even closer. “How can I make you believe me?”

There was only one answer right now. You pulled him tight, lips crashing together, hands all sliding and grasping. “I want to see you, all of you.” He tore back the covers and raised himself up. The fiery passion in his eyes laid waste to your inhibitions. He peeled off your shirt, his eyes drinking you in as he reached behind you, unclasping your bra. His hands slowly brought down the straps, fingertips ghosting over your skin. Moving down the bed, he pulled off your jeans and panties slowly, his lips leaving a hot a trail down your legs.

A giddy smile lit up his face as his eyes roamed over you and you’d never felt sexier. With your newfound confidence you returned the smile, crooking a finger at him. He was only too happy to obey after shedding his own shirt and boxer briefs, crawling his way back up to you, his muscles rippling under his smooth skin with every movement.

Your legs spread involuntarily, making room for him as he hovered above you, eyes burning into yours and shooting warmth straight to your core.

“Damn, baby.” He murmured, quirking his lips before dropping them to yours. Your arms circled him, his skin feeling as hot and perfect as you’d imagined. You pulled him closer, wanting, no needing to feel all of him pressed to you.

But he had other ideas. He broke the kiss, both of you panting, and slid down to lavish his attention on your breasts. You grasped at his head when his lips found a nipple and gently sucked it into his mouth, his hand toying with its twin. His teeth grazed you, a moan sounding from the back of your throat. “That’s it, love those sounds.” He switched to your other side, mouth sucking your breast hard enough to leave a mark.

You couldn’t help but push your hips up, desperate for more and as if he was reading your mind, his lips were already trailing further down, hot kisses mixed with unexpected nips of his teeth driving you crazy. He hovered over your center only long enough to draw a deep breath and give a satisfied “Mmmm.” His attention turned to your thighs, his lips and teeth cranking up your need until you couldn’t stand it.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“That’s so hot, say it again.” He moved higher on your thigh, giving you a small nip.

“Unhh, please, Dean.” His tongue dove into you, licking up your slit. “Jesus.” You ground out as his tongue circled your entrance before darting in and out. His tongue moved up, a finger replacing it as his mouth closed around your clit. Feeling drunk on the sensations, your head rolled back and your eyes closed as your hands swept out beside you, desperate to clutch on to something. Your hands fisted the sheets as he added another finger, sucking and pumping away at you faster.

A low groan sounded from the depths of you as you neared your release. “Dean, mmm, so close.” He moaned in response to you, the vibrations sending you over the edge as your entire body clenched and shook.

When you’d come down enough to open your eyes you found him crawling his way back up to you, the back of his hand drawing over his smile and chin and through your wetness. “Do you know how beautiful you are? How gorgeous you look when you come?”

The blood rushed to your cheeks and stole your words from you. Cupping his face, you brought his lips to yours, the only response you could muster. He relaxed into you, his erection sliding through your slick folds as your tongues danced with each other. His weight rested on one side so he could glide a hand over your breast, down your torso to your thigh and back up again.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” He pulled back just enough to whisper. When your eyes opened and met his you were nearly consumed by their fire. You nodded before snaking your hand down his chest until he was firmly in hand, guiding him to your entrance.

“Take me, Dean.” Your eyes were locked on to each other as he slowly pushed in, every inch better than the last. He kissed you once more when he had filled you, taking his time to explore before setting a languid rhythm.

Never had a man treated you so tenderly, your heart and core equally on fire as you slowly pushed towards each other, hands roaming on every bit of skin they could find. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him on, willing him to go deeper, wanting all of him you could get.

He slowly built up speed, hips rotating, searching out that perfect angle for you. You broke the kiss gasping as he found it. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He picked up his speed, bringing your arms down beside you so he could lace his hands with yours.

“Just like that, Dean, please.” Your words escaped you, part whine and part moan. Your eyes fluttered closed, the sensations overwhelming you.

“No, Y/N. Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.” You fought your natural tendencies to grant his request, and he was so right. The sight of him watching you so hungrily only added fuel to your raging fire. Together you moved faster, chasing that sweet release. “Wanna see you undone again.” He panted. “Come for me.”

He grasped your hands tighter as he snapped into you faster, harder, until you were crying out his name, your whole body clenching and shaking. One more thrust and he was right there with you, a deep groan rumbling out of him.

He stilled, both of you trying desperately to catch your breath. A crooked smile tugged at his lips when a couple of aftershocks hit you.

“That was - ” overwhelmed by the intensity, you were at a loss for words.

Dean shifted, laying on his side and pulling you into his arms with a grin. “Just the beginning.”


End file.
